


consumed with what's just transpired

by macaroni_rascal



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Song fic, sort of, the lyrics are more inspiration than anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 21:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macaroni_rascal/pseuds/macaroni_rascal
Summary: Sort-of song fic based on Sex on Fire (the Beyoncé cover) in which Ginny and Mike are in love, together, and finding out how to exist within their world.Very, very in love.





	consumed with what's just transpired

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely lerayon prompted the fic.
> 
> [Here is the Beyoncé cover.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjQnpJVdv-8)
> 
>  
> 
> Also a sort-of-not-really-but-actually continuation of [this fic.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9282575/chapters/21806786)
> 
> Enjoy!

_Lay where you're laying_  
_Don't make a sound_  
_I know they're watching_  
_They're watching_

They are always careful when in public, at away games, in a crowd. 

By virtue of their careers they are pretty heavily monitored, not as much as movie stars or famous musicians, but enough that they set ground rules with each other.

Ginny is of the idea that you can never be too cautious, while Mike is mostly too ass over tea kettle in love with her to do anything other than agree with what she suggests.

All of this culminates into quickly broken intense looks, comforting hands removed too soon, and a constant awareness of each other. Not that they weren't aware of each other before; Ginny could walk into a room and know if Mike was there before even looking around. Somehow, since getting together that inherent instinct has only crystallized into something infinitely more implicit.

They get transfixed.

They sometimes end up making love without breaking eye contact, so completely absorbed with each that they lose where one begins and the other ends. Mike and Ginny hold each other tenderly and carefully afterwards, overwhelmed, but mostly feeling limitless affection and bone deep contentment. 

Inevitably though, they need to leave the little cocoon they'd created and venture back out into public, keeping distance and maintaining levels of equanimity they didn't know they possessed until now. 

It's difficult, draining, and downright annoying to have to curb their love for each other when it seems like every cell in their bodies is calling for one another. Ginny all of a sudden understands poetry, great love songs, and the once ridiculous idea that the feeling of being at home could be found within another person. 

_All the commotion_  
_The kiddie like play_  
_Has people talking_  
_Talking_

There have been a few articles written about them, nothing has come of it and they've only been asked one question directly and it was quickly snuffed out.

But, sometimes they falter. They hang out outside of Petco and pictures are grabbed of them. They are usually good about maintaining a safe distance but Mike will make a joke and Ginny can't help but shove him playfully, or Ginny will laugh so beautifully that Mike can't help but throw an arm around her shoulder and pull her into his body; the need to demonstrate physically how much he cares about her too great to ignore.

He gives her a twenty second piggyback while they are on their way back from a movie just because he wants to see if he can, while simultaneously making her shut her up about the bad back old man jokes. Ginny giggles the whole time and her warm breath on his neck makes his face flush and a smile light up across his face that he doesn’t try to dim.

That was the picture that prompted the question about the nature of their relationship. 

Mike is a sap and spends a stupidly long time combing through gossip sites to find the best angle. Finally, he finds one where Ginny's face is half nuzzled into his neck but her smile is still partly visible, eyes crinkled and joyous, his head is turned and thrown back towards her, a wide grin on his face. He has never seen a candid photo of himself where he's looked that happy. He doesn't think he's ever seen himself that happy. 

He prints it, frames it, hangs it up in his house.

It's made all the better when he remembers how his back has gone into spasm quickly after she'd hopped on and he'd had to let her drop back to the ground unceremoniously. 

She'd avoided actually saying the words "I told you so" out loud but it was written plain as day all over her face, along with a little smirk and a comforting hand on his back. One speedy drive back to his place later, Ginny had laid him out on his bed and given him a back massage. He'd all but melted into the mattress.

After being thoroughly relaxed almost to the point of falling asleep, she rolls him over and he only grunts at the movement, surprised when he feels no pain at all, his muscles like jelly and his brain floating somewhere above him.

She lays her body over his, covering him like the warmest, loveliest blanket ever, kissing him soundly and softly. They make out lazily, like they are taking a journey with no clear destination. The pull of sleep is tempting but the way her hips start to move over him is far more so. Pants are shuffled down, hips connecting and rocking with each other, keeping the same slow pace as their mouths. 

They burn low and hot for each other, traveling nowhere but enjoying the ride, building to a crescendo so slowly that they are surprised when they fall off the cliff together, gasping dully and sighing into each other's mouths with a sort of earth shattering pleasure that'd both never felt before.

People still speculate sometimes, but they aren’t bothered in the least.

_The dark of the alley_  
_The break of the day_  
_Head while I'm driving_  
_I'm driving_

They sneak away together when the need for each is too much. The pull to one another is alluring and charged, palpable and overwhelming and she thinks she's in over her head but it turns out she knows how to breath under water as long as Mike is with her.

They escape a team celebration to get a breath of fresh air, the heat and intensity of the club making them both more aware of each other. 

The two ball players chat and giggle as they walk slowly along the sidewalk. There is a little side street two blocks down and Ginny all of a sudden finds herself pressed up against the wall, the cold hard brick digging into her back while Mike's warm hard body crowds into her front . The mix of sensation coupled with the drinks she's had makes her uninhibited and only a few more kisses away from desperate.

Mike hasn't had a single drop, they knew that if they were both drinking they wouldn't have been able to stay away from or off of each other. They'd played rock paper scissors in the car before they went into the bar to see who would get to drink with the team and who would be designated driver.

He wasn't too disappointed not to drink; watching a tipsy, flushed Ginny Baker dance and smile for him was all he needed to get intoxicated. Besides, being drunk off her was infinitely more enjoyable than any feeling alcohol could possibly provide.

They make out like teenagers for a few minutes before Mike finally shuffles them back down the street. Ginny tries three times to stick her hand in his back pocket and he has to swat her away every time. With each rebuff she laughs louder and becomes more determined.

Mike is grateful for the cover of darkness because he gives up and lets her plaster herself on his back, one hand in his back pocket, her other creeping underneath his shirt to caress his abs.

Once they get to the car, he grabs a water bottle and gets her to drink half of it. She's not drunk, more tipsy and openly affectionate than anything, cheeks warm and eyes holding more heat than the club they'd only so recently left.

Her hand rests high on his thigh and creeps dangerously higher as he turns onto the highway to bring them to his place. He's halfheartedly attempting to dissuade her from doing anything more, but her hand is hot and familiar and it rubs him through his pants, her fingernails scraping along the seem to make him gasp and wish they were anywhere but in a moving vehicle.

She unbuttons his jeans and sinks her hand into his pants, gripping him tightly, making him press a little harder on the gas pedal. It’s is risky and stupid but it feels so good and he won't lie and say the danger doesn't heighten the pleasure, making his stomach swoop and his chest get tight. 

Ginny’s other hand pulls his zipper down and he doesn't even have the chance to try and voice his concern for their safety before she's leaning over the middle console and taking him into her mouth.

He's never done this before but he understands the appeal immediately. The power of the car underneath his hands coupled with the complete power he's giving over to Ginny is a heady and dangerous combination. 

Mike desperately wants to take one hand off the steering wheel and run a hand over her back and up her neck, cup her face to show how much he appreciates what she’s doing, but maintaining control over the car seems like a better idea.

He lets out harsh curses and garbled enunciations of her name as she makes liquid heat spread throughout his veins. She lets go of him with an obscene pop and lifts herself to whisper in his ear than he either needs to pull over or drive a lot faster.

Ginny’s hand is making its way back down his chest to where he's hard and sensitive, wet from her mouth and glistening. When he doesn't answer, only lets out a desperate whimper as she grips him tightly and possessively, she chuckles darkly in his ear.

Mercifully, they pull into his driveway less than a minute later. When she doesn't let go, he moves the seat back to give her more room, like the gentleman he is, and allows her to use him as she pleases. 

Mike has never been happier to give over control in his entire life.

_Soft lips are open_  
_Them knuckles are pale_  
_Feels like you're dying_  
_You're dying_

For the first time, he understands why the French call it le petit mort. He's reborn every time they come together in a way that makes him believe in reincarnation and soul mates and meant to be; people have surely felt desire and passion before but never with such justice.

It is so intensely intimate between them, exclusive and all consuming, that he has to fight to get back to earth sometimes. It's addictive to feel so much all the time, to know, understand, and love someone in such a way. 

Ginny watches him sleep sometimes. He always falls asleep first and she allows herself time to appreciate what's in front of her, what he means to her, how beautiful he is. 

This first time she'd called him beautiful, he'd scoffed jokingly and just shook his head before kissing the amused smile off her face. 

The next time she'd said it they'd been in bed, he'd been all around her, his breath on her face as he rocked into her with changing rhythms, a playful smile tugging at his lips. Every time she fell into his tempo, he'd stop and kiss her, letting the urgency dissipate before starting up again, circling his hips in a way that had white hot pleasure blooming from her center outwards until her fingertips started to tingle.

Then he'd stop again.

She'd sob uselessly, frustrated and turned on and so beside herself she wasn't sure what language she was speaking anymore. She'd devolved into a whimpering pile of twitchy and aroused goo, completely helpless to him and the sensations he was creating within her.

Her head had been thrown back, neck taught and eyes closed as he'd pressed his pelvis into hers, the pressure making her squirm and moan. 

She’d felt a gentle hand move a few pieces of stray hairs out of her face, before he'd gently cupped her cheeks, her open mouth ready for him when he leaned down to kiss her; a deep, searching kiss she'd come to expect from him. 

When he’d pulled back, she had finally opened her eyes and he'd been smiling down at her. Mike flushed and shiny with perspiration, still hot and hard inside of her and she doesn't think "perfect" is good enough to describe how she feels; it seems inadequate, a meager attempt to encapsulate all that she feels for him.

"You're beautiful."

She’d said it because she couldn't think of anything else to say, thanking him seemed just as feeble, she'd lost count how often she's told him she loves him, Ginny just needs him to understand what he is to her. It's the best she can do, but it's still doesn't feel like enough. 

How is she supposed to put into words everything she feels for him? It's beyond language, beyond practical thought, beyond anything she's ever experienced or likely will again.

Mike shifts in his sleep, rolling over and curling into her side. She runs a hand down and back up his arm and grips his hand that’s curled into a fist under his bearded chin. She leans down to kiss his knuckles before gently sliding her fingers through his, holding on tightly. 

He wakes up for a few hazy seconds, mumbles to ask if she's okay and when she affirms it and snuggles next to him, he falls back to sleep quickly; she joins him a couple minutes later.

She will never be able to adequately communicate the breadth of her feelings, but she won't stop trying. 

_Hot as a fever_  
_Rattling bones_  
_I could just taste it_  
_Taste it_

He can live off nothing but the taste of her skin, he is almost entirely sure of this. The satisfying salty taste of her sweat is as nourishing to him as food, and as essential.

He kisses her like he's thirsty for her, like he's getting his life's essence from her mouth, like the feeling of his tongue rolling against hers sustains him. 

His skin feels different when she enters the room and it only amplifies the closer they are to one another. When they are tangled together, completely absorbed with each other he feels like he's been set aflame, like she's flint and he's tinder and the friction they make together creates an inferno that devours them whole.

There are times when he's so lost in her, in her body and smell and taste, that he loses himself completely. He forgets about who he is, everything that's ever happened to him, everything he's ever done before the moment when they come together.

It's otherworldly. 

It seems like something no one could have possible ever felt before. He's almost entirely sure of that as well. He thinks he was made to touch her skin.

He can feel it in his bones.

_But it's not forever_  
_But it's just tonight_  
_Oh we're still the greatest_  
_The greatest_

__By the time sun filters onto their sleep warm bodies, they are like phoenixes having been reborn out of the flames that consumed them. When they wake up, they hold onto the vestiges of their night together as long as possible, hitting the snooze button and not leaving the comfort of their bed, an island all on its own where they maroon themselves every night and escape from every morning._ _

__She looks at him with soft adoring eyes in the early morning light and he's blown away every time. At first, he’d thought it had been a long time since someone had looked at him like that. Now, as he run his eyes slowly over her face, he thinks that no one has ever looked at him like that._ _

__There is promise in all of their time together, a sense of quiet urgency that slowly builds from the moment they walk into Petco and switch wavelengths with each other._ _

__The certainty that they will find each other again when the game ends, the practice ends, the interviews end, makes it all easier. It's comforting and familiar but wondrous and new all at once._ _

__It's the best feeling in the world._ _

_____You_  
_Your sex is on fire_  
_Consumed_  
_With what's just transpired_

__They don't wonder about how long the intense magnetism will last between them, how long they can possibly stoke the flame, they just burn burn burn and bask in the all-encompassing heat._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comment if you'd like, its always appreciated!


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